


live by our own laws

by starlight_sugar



Series: The General Specific [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Professors, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5272391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_sugar/pseuds/starlight_sugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pat makes a face. “No, we’re not doing relationship talk, okay, this is design department night. We’re going to talk about design, goddammit."</p><p>(Or: Jon goes to design night, Chris gets drunk, and Miles goes missing. Not in that order.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	live by our own laws

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from [Neighbor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_C3ztUjCeGU) by Band of Horses.
> 
> Rooster Teeth does not have my permission to use any portion of my writing in your video content.

Miles disappears for twelve days.

This kind of thing has happened before, even when they weren’t dating: Miles gets an idea for a story or an anthology and falls off the face of the earth until he’s done. He still teaches, as far as Jon knows, but that’s the extent of his human interaction. Otherwise, he doesn’t leave his apartment, he doesn’t go out for lunch, and he doesn’t text.

Well, he didn’t text - apparently boyfriend status means Jon is text-worthy. It also means he gets a lot of messages like “character name for angry teenage boy??” and “my phone says 5 but i’m not sure if it’s AM or PM please help.” It’s not perfect, but he’ll take it. It’s proof that Miles is alive. He also gets a lot of pictures of Kerry, passed out on top of pages and pages of script notes and ideas. Jon is amazed and scared by how much they’re doing so quickly.

“They’re doing how much,” Chris says in disbelief when Jon mentions it around day five. “They wrote one act in- no way.”

“Miles said it doesn’t all make sense,” Jon admits. He’s been around sleep-deprived Miles, and not everything he says makes sense. It stands to reason that not everything he writes would make sense, even with Kerry there to double-check it. In fact, with Kerry there, it could make even less sense.

Chris makes a couple of inarticulate noises and flails his arms around. Jon waits until Chris spits out, “First drafts never make sense! But they’re supposed to take for-fucking-ever!”

 _Chris says first drafts are supposed to take forever_ , Jon texts Miles that night. He gets a string of laughing emojis in response. Chris almost flips a table when Jon shows him, which earns another dozen emojis from Miles. It’s a vicious cycle.

It’s an adjustment, obviously, going from lunch with Miles every day to not seeing him in person for so long. For one thing, he only remembers to eat lunch on his own because he catches himself expecting a “time for lunch” text daily. For another, he didn’t realize how often he thinks about Miles until Miles isn’t there anymore. He’s constantly expecting Miles to try to burst in and distract his students, but Miles… doesn’t.

The students notice it, too, which is the weirdest part of all. Matt and Maggie stay after class on day eight of Miles-less-ness, looking worried.

“Hi,” Jon says, hoping it’ll prompt them to say something.

“Um,” Matt says. Maggie shuffles her feet. Matt clears his throat.

Jon, silently thanking God for gifting him with more patience than he thought he’d ever need, just looks between them until Matt bursts out, “Did you and Dr. Luna break up?”

Maggie elbows him sharply and gives Jon a concerned look. “What Matt means is that, as contributors in Dr. Luna’s plan to woo you, we care about him, and we just wanted to make sure he’s okay. He hasn’t been here in a while, and he’s not holding office hours.”

“He’s not holding office hours,” Jon repeats, filing away a mental note to yell at Miles for that later. “Why were you going to his office hours?”

“To make sure he wasn’t dead.” Maggie shrugs, not looking at all concerned. “His students all say he’s still in class, but I wanted to see for myself.”

“Great.” Jon looks between them. “Dr. Luna is fine, and it’s not any of your business, but we’re still dating. He’s in the middle of a project, and it’s eating up a lot of his free time.”

“Office hours aren’t free time,” Matt points out.

Jon snorts. “Oh, believe me, he’s going to be hearing that from me soon. But other than that, he’s fine. He and Professor Shawcross are working on something together.”

Matt’s face clears instantly. “Oh, my god, he’s writing the school play, isn’t he.”

“Right on the money.”

Maggie gasps. “I was going to do stage crew for that!”

Matt gapes at her. “No way, me too!”

“That’s amazing, I wonder if Ben and Trevor-”

Jon clears his throat. “Not that I’m not touched by your concern, but this sounds like a conversation you can have somewhere else.”

“Yes, Professor Risinger,” Matt says in a monotone. “Have a good day, Professor Risinger.”

“Damn kids, get off my lawn,” Jon mutters.

Maggie rolls her eyes, but she takes Matt by the elbow and drags him out, already chattering about something involving stage crew. Jon watches them go, feeling oddly fond. He’s not used to students knowing so much about his personal life, but something about Maggie and Matt makes it okay. Maybe it’s that they genuinely care about how things are. It’s nice to have his students see him as a person.

.

To: Miles (12:30 PM)  
matt and maggie asked if we broke up

From: Miles (12:48 PM)  
What?? Why????

To: Miles (12:49 PM)  
they miss you visiting

From: Miles (12:49 PM)  
Awwwwwww

From: Miles (12:49 PM)  
Tell them I miss them too

To: Miles (12:50 PM)  
they also mentioned that you’re not holding office hours

From: Miles (12:56 PM)  
Hahaha oops writing! Got to write!

To: Miles (12:57 PM)  
office hours are your JOB, MILES

To: Miles (1:05 PM)  
DO YOUR JOB

.

On day twelve of life without Miles, Jon gets to his first classroom early to set up the projector, only to find the biggest Minesweeper game he’s ever seen already projected on the screen.

“Well,” Jon says, trying to absorb this. “That’s… unexpected.”

Miles pops up from behind the podium with the computer, grinning his delight. “I didn’t even know they still put Minesweeper on computers! This is amazing.”

There’s a second where Jon almost says something horrifyingly honest, something like _I never want to go twelve days without you again,_ but he swallows it down and just lets himself look at his boyfriend. Miles looks a bit of a mess, his hair sticking out more directions than normal and the buttons on his shirt all off by one, but he’s radiating pure happiness as he looks at Jon.

“Welcome back,” he says, and it’s still a little too raw, but he makes his way to the front of the room as nonchalantly as he can.

Miles bounds forward to meet him and stops him in the middle of an aisle between seats. “I haven’t seen you in twelve days,” he says seriously.

“No, you haven’t,” Jon agrees. “It’s been a while.”

“Hi,” Miles says, and before Jon can stop him, Miles grabs him and dips him low, a hand at the small of his back. Jon lets out a startled laugh, and Miles kisses him, deep and long and not nearly enough to make up for twelve days of being gone.

“Missed you,” Jon murmurs, as soon as Miles pulls away enough for him to speak.

“God, I missed you so fucking much,” Miles answers immediately, pulling Jon back upright. “First draft hell was really hell this time, that was one of the worst two weeks of my life.”

“Was?”

Miles’s face lights up, and he dashes back to the podium. Jon follows him, and his eyes land on the stack of paper just before Miles lifts it up triumphantly. “First draft! One of four hard copies, Kerry and I both have one at home and I have an extra in my office.”

“Ryan doesn’t have one?”

“This is going to be Ryan’s.”

The script is waving around in the air, ever so slightly. Now that Miles is no longer moving, it’s a lot easier to notice his hands shaking. Jon’s eyes narrow. “Miles.”

“Yes, dear.”

Jon doesn’t roll his eyes, but he comes close. “You remember all of those times that I told you to sleep so you didn’t die?”

“I do remember those, and I’m very grateful.”

“How many times did you actually sleep?”

Miles freezes, eyes popping wide as if he hadn’t expected Jon to call him out. “Uh,” he croaks.

“That’s what I thought,” Jon sighs. “All right, here’s what we’re going to do. You give me the script, and you go home.” Miles opens his mouth to protest, but Jon keeps going. “You are going to sleep, goddammit, you need a little bit of rest, because when I take you out for dinner tonight to celebrate the first draft, I don’t want to be in public with a man whose shirt is buttoned wrong.”

“My shirt is not buttoned wrong,” Miles says immediately. “It’s a trend.”

Jon raises his eyebrows, hoping to convey all of the skepticism he possibly can.

“I have classes?” Miles tries.

“Have you missed a single class this semester?”

“Not yet.”

“Then your students will understand if you miss one.” Jon holds out his hand. “Come on. I’ll make sure this gets to Ryan, and you get some sleep.”

Miles pouts. “You’re being mean.”

“I’m making sure you don’t pass out in front of your students.” He wiggles his fingers, and Miles reluctantly puts the script in his hand. “Thank you.”

“You promise that gets to Ryan?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Miles exhales a long breath and looks at Jon, softer now. “I’m sorry I was gone for twelve days.”

Jon shrugs, setting the script down on the table. “It happens. I’ll visit next time and make sure you actually sleep.”

“I’ll send you my address,” Miles promises. “But really, you’re a fucking saint. You’re better than I deserve.”

Jon tries not to laugh out loud at that. “I don’t even know where you live.”

“Well, we can fix that.” Miles leans in and kisses Jon again, warm and sweet and a little knee-melting, and oh _god_ how did Jon survive twelve days without this man?

“Home,” Jon gasps, trying to steady himself. “You have to go home, right now, and I have class-”

“Jon,” Miles whines against his neck. “It’s been twelve days.”

“My students are going to be here any minute.”

“We can lock the doors.”

“They’re in college, they’ll know exactly what we were doing if they see that I have beard burn.”

“I’m not going to leave-” Miles pulls back and eyes Jon’s neck critically. “Okay, I might leave a little bit of beard burn. And a couple of hickeys.”

“Nope, no hickeys, that’s not happening.” Jon pushes at Miles’s shoulders, and Miles stands up straight, pouting at him. “Tonight.”

“Tonight, huh?” Miles repeats, waggling his eyebrows.

“Stop,” Jon tries to groan, but he can’t help laughing instead. “Go. Sleep. I’ll pick you up at seven, so send me your address.”

Miles nods. Hopefully he’ll actually listen to Jon this time. He hopes so. Miles has bags under his eyes, and Jon honestly never wants to see that again.

“Hey,” he says quietly. Miles looks at him curiously, and Jon leans up to kiss him one more time, a little sweeter. “Congratulations. You just wrote a play in twelve days. That’s really cool.”

Miles’s eyes light up. “It is, isn’t it?”

Jon grins. “It is. Go to bed, Shakespeare.”

“Parting is such sweet sorrow,” Miles intones, but he leans in just enough to drop a kiss on Jon’s hair and heads out of the classroom.

Jon looks back at the giant game of Minesweeper, still projected on the screen, and shrugs. He’ll leave it up. Maybe one of his students will turn out to be a Minesweeper genius.

.

To: Ryan (9:50 AM)  
Miles gave me your copy of his first draft, come by sometime and grab it

From: Ryan (9:54 AM)  
Where’d Miles go?

To: Ryan (9:54 AM)  
Hopefully, home to sleep

From: Ryan (9:57 AM)  
Gotcha. I’ll pick it up in a couple hours

From: Ryan (9:57 AM)  
Is it any good?

To: Ryan (9:58 AM)  
I haven’t read it, but honestly, it’s probably great

.

Dinner with Miles is not bad. Jon has been on bad dates, and this isn’t one of them. It is, however, on the wrong end of the “sort of weird” spectrum.

Everything is fine at first. Miles texts Jon his address, and he actually looks well-rested when Jon comes to pick him up. He’s wearing a sport coat when he answers the door (“I know we’re not going anywhere this fancy,” he says, rocking on the balls of his feet, “but I feel fancy. I wrote a play, you know. You’re dating someone very important.”) and damn it, it’s endearing.

The end of the night is fine. They get their food, they make conversation, Jon stays at Miles’s apartment for a few hours. It’s nice, honestly, to be able to spend time with his boyfriend again. He missed Miles, in a way that’s foreign and difficult in the best way. Miles is effusive and affectionate, and he makes Jon comfortable. It’s a good date.

The only problem - and it’s not a problem, barely a hiccup, Jon is absolutely being weirder about this than he should - well.

Their waitress at dinner is cute and bubbly, and she talks almost exclusively to Jon. It makes sense - he’d called ahead to make sure they’d get a table, and he’s pretty sure she’s the one who answered, so she would want to talk to him. Jon doesn’t mind. He’s worked a service job or two in his day, and he knows it’s nice to get a customer that actually treats her like a person.

It’s not a problem when she greets them at the door. It’s not a problem when she jokes with Jon over the drink menu. It’s not even really a problem when she sets down the drinks and Jon thanks her. Oh, no, the hiccup happens when she winks at Jon and says you’re welcome.

And Miles says, casually and cheerfully aggressive, “Isn’t my boyfriend great? He’s goddamn incredible, he’s taking me on a date because he’s just that sweet.”

The waitress giggles and says something that Jon doesn’t catch before leaving. Jon is too busy staring at Miles and the ugly saccharine smile on his face to realize she’s gone, and it takes him another few seconds to manage, “What the fuck was that?”

Miles’s smile drops immediately. “What the fuck was what?”

“Why did you just try to scare off our waitress?”

“I wasn’t trying to scare her off.”

Jon narrows his eyes.

“I wasn’t!” Miles insists. “She was flirting with you, and I wanted to make sure she understood that there were no mixed signals.”

“Okay,” Jon says, hoping he sounds as dubious as he feels. “But you know that even if she got mixed signals, I’m not sending her those signals, right?”

Miles doesn’t answer, which is a little alarming on its own. Instead, he reaches across the table and picks up Jon’s hand, stroking his thumb across Jon’s knuckles.

Jon frowns. “Miles.”

“I know,” Miles answers, voice a little softer, and Jon thinks that one day he’ll have to ask why Miles is so determined to defend Jon’s honor, or whatever this is. But for now, Miles gives him this look, two parts contrition and one part hope, and Jon can’t bring himself to push the issue.

“So tell me about the play,” he says instead, and the slow smile that spreads across Miles’s face makes everything worth it.

.

The first sign that something is wrong is that the lights are on when Jon opens the door.

Chris works weird hours sometimes, with night shoots and late brainstorming, and it’s not entirely unusual for him to be awake at one in the morning, but he works in the dark at night. Jon doesn’t get it, but Chris swears by it, and he won’t question it. So when he gets home and the lights are on, he immediately knows something’s up.

The second sign is that Chris isn’t in the armchair like normal, but curled up on the couch. Jon can see a bottle of vodka on the coffee table (the third sign) and he’s pretty sure that Chris is listening to Adele, which in itself is at least four signs that something is wrong.

Jon sets his bag down by the door. “Chris?”

Chris makes an inarticulate noise that Jon identifies as somewhere between tipsy and drunk.

“What happened?”

“Don’t wanna,” Chris says, but he’s pushing himself upright on the couch, just enough to peer at Jon. “You’re home.”

“Yeah, I am. And you’re drinking by yourself on a Tuesday.” Jon goes over and perches on the arm of the couch near Chris’s feet. “What happened?”

Chris blinks at him, a look of sadness crossing his face, and Jon is surprised by how foreign it looks. Chris isn’t always happy, but he’s not normally sad.

“Barb and Aaron went on a date tonight,” he says at last, and everything clicks into place.

Jon hasn’t known Chris too long, in the grand scheme of things. Chris had Aaron and Barbara before he had Jon, and their friendship goes deep - deeper, he’d always thought, than only friendship. Jon doesn’t know all the ins and outs of the way they are, but he’d always figured they’d either all be platonic friends for the rest of their lives or they’d all date. It’d been kind of a foregone conclusion in his mind: the three of them were going to do whatever they did together. But this is not together.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, because what the fuck else is there to say? He’s disappointed in Aaron and Barbara, truth be told - how could they leave Chris behind? - but that’s not his problem right now. His problem is his drunk, heartsick roommate.

“Thanks,” Chris answers, and promptly buries his face in the couch. “Don’ wan’ go t’work t’morrow.”

“You don’t have to, you can call in sick.”

“Tha’d be pathetic.”

“Not if you really needed a day off.”

Chris sits up again, eyeing Jon. “I want to watch Titanic.”

Jon thinks it through. He’s had a long day and a late night, and he’s still stuck on the hiccup with Miles, and Titanic is a long movie. But he only has one class to teach tomorrow, and he can hold that on minimal sleep, and besides, Chris needs him.

“Only if you stop drinking and eat something,” Jon decides.

Chris nods solemnly. “You’re good, Jon. I should date you. You wouldn’t date other people.”

Jon has to stifle a laugh. “Chris, buddy, I got some bad news.”

“What?” Chris’s face falls. “Oh, my god, you have to break up with Miles. He’s gonna be really upset, you know.”

“You’ve had far too much vodka and not enough sleep,” Jon tells him. “C’mon, sit up while I dig out some leftovers for you.”

“Thanks,” Chris murmurs, shifting himself upright as Jon goes to the kitchen. “I left my phone there.”

“There where?”

“Counter by the fridge. Didn’t wanna drunk-text them.” Chris pauses, and then, too hopefully: “Have they texted me?”

Jon picks up Chris’s phone and checks. “Yeah,” he lies. “Barb actually texted me while I was with Miles, I told her you were asleep.”

“That’s good,” Chris says sadly, and Jon might have to throttle Aaron and Barbara the next time he sees them. “That’s good.”

.

To: Miles (12:41 PM)  
Lunch?

From: Miles (12:42 PM)  
Can’t, K and I are stuck in script revision hell :( :(

From: Miles (12:42 PM)  
Think of me when you eat though!

To: Miles (12:44 PM)  
Miles.

To: Miles (12:44 PM)  
Go eat something.

.

From: Barb (3:28 PM)  
is Chris mad at me??

To: Barb (3:29 PM)  
I would say ask Chris

From: Barb (3:31 PM)  
Jon you can’t just ask someone if they’re mad at you

From: Barb (3:32 PM)  
you don’t know??

To: Barb (3:35 PM)  
Seriously, ask Chris

From: Barb (3:37 PM)  
WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

.

From: Pat (5:46 PM)  
time for a design department drink night

From: Pat (5:47 PM)  
friday?

To: Pat (5:49 PM)  
God, yes

From: Pat (5:50 PM)  
good, jordan says he knows a place

.

Design department drink is an age-old tradition. It’s partly a time to complain about students and partly a way to see each other off campus, both of which Jon considers equally important. The only problem is that nobody in the department cares about drink night except for him, Patrick, and Jordan, and the three of them are shit at planning, so they don’t have it very often.

As of this particular drink night, there’s a second problem: the place Jordan has chosen is a sports bar. Jon is fairly certain he has the address wrong right up until he walks in and sees Pat and Jordan already at the bar, and even then he’s not sure.

Pat waves Jon over as he walks in. “Finally, someone who knows just as much about sports as I do.”

“I didn’t even think you knew what a sport was,” Jon says, sitting down next to Pat.

Jordan frowns. “Patrick, come on, you know what sports are.”

Jon shakes his head. “No, you don’t understand. Pat, name four sports.”

Pat sits back in his stool, looking thoughtful. “Football. Basketball. Baseball, and… kickball.”

Jordan stares at him. “You’re not serious, right?”

“Professional kickball is a big deal,” Jon says, as deadpan as he can.

“You’re in the wrong bar,” says the kid behind the bar, who doesn’t look old enough to drink alcohol, let alone serve it. “Don’t say that in front of anyone else.”

Pat peers at Jordan suspiciously. “You wouldn’t normally take us here, because you know we’re not sports people, so you must have an ulterior motive.”

“What, no,” Jordan says, which means he does. “It’s just that one of my friends dragged me here a while ago, and there was a guy, and-”

“And you needed an excuse to come back,” Pat finishes. “You bastard, you’re using us, how could you? You need to make up for this right away.”

Jordan looks at the kid behind the bar. “First round’s on me. What are you guys having?”

“Give me the most expensive whiskey you own,” Jon says immediately. Jordan groans. “Oh, shut up, you owe us for taking us here.”

“Jon,” Jordan pleads. “Jon, no, you can’t, I’m going to go broke if you do that.”

“I only want one shot!”

“Wouldn’t have pegged you as a whiskey man, professor,” the kid remarks.

All three of them cringe in unison. “No,” Pat says, “no, this is our night off, you can’t do that.”

Jon looks at the kid a little closer. He looks familiar, not one of Jon’s own students, but still someone he’s seen. He narrows his eyes. “You’re one of Miles’s, right? The kid who was going on about Ozymandias a couple weeks ago.”

The kid grins. “Hey, you remembered! You can call me Cole, though.”

“Great,” Jon says, “awesome. Don’t say the word professor, it’s drinks night and we are people tonight, not professors, goddammit. Now get me some Maker’s Mark.”

“And I want bourbon,” Pat adds. “I don’t care what kind. Middle shelf. Top shelf, for all I care.”

Jordan gives them the most pathetic look he can manage. “You guys know I have the same salary as you, right?”

“Don’t listen to him,” Jon says immediately. “He’s using us, Pat, no pity.”

Pat must take pity anyways, because he looks back at Cole. “I’ll pay for the next round. But Jordan’s still got to pay up for this one.”

Cole looks at Jordan. “What can I getcha, boss?”

“I’ll go with Heineken,” Jordan decides.

Cole goes off to get their drinks, and Pat immediately turns to Jordan. “All right, you made this drink night happen, give us your shittiest student story, go.”

“Oh, fuck,” Jordan groans, and launches into some story that Jon can’t quite follow. His strengths are in graphics, not in animation. He’s not entirely sure what this student did wrong, but judging by the noises Pat is making, it was pretty bad. Jon just takes the opportunity to check his phone. There’s nothing from Miles, but one text from Chris: _going out tonight._

 _Rebound? Good luck,_ Jon texts back, pocketing his phone as Cole returns with a couple of bottles. He sets two shot glasses on the table and pours Jon’s whiskey and Pat’s bourbon. Jon watches him idly, only barely aware of Jordan finishing his story and Pat groaning.

“So,” Cole says, setting down Jordan’s glass, “you can pay for the shots, but that gentleman over there has generously offered to pay for your beer.”

All three of them immediately turn to the end of the bar, where there’s a man with dark hair and a pint glass paying rapt attention to something on a wall-mounted TV.

“He’s cute,” Pat stage-whispers.

Jordan looks absolutely panicked. “That’s him, that’s the guy, oh my god, what do I do?”

Jon raises his eyebrows. “Go talk to him?”

“But he’s watching a game!”

“Aren’t you the only one of us who can carry on a conversation about sports?” Pat cuts in.

Jordan looks at him in surprise. “Well, yeah, but-”

“Then go talk to him about sports!”

“I can’t do that, I’m gonna look like an asshole!”

“No, that’s a good idea,” Cole says. “He’s a regular, he’s always looking for someone to talk to.”

“I can’t ditch you guys on drinks night,” Jordan says, but he’s sliding off his stool as he says it.

Pat squeezes Jordan’s shoulder. “Thanks for the bourbon, Jordan. Now you can get the first round next time we go out too to make up for ditching us.”

“Have fun,” Jon adds. “And text one of us if you need a rescue.”

“You guys are the best,” Jordan says with feeling. He squares his shoulders and goes off to talk to dark-hair, drink firmly in hand.

Pat sniffs dramatically. “He’s grown up so much.”

“I’m so proud,” Jon says, pretending to wipe away a tear.

“I’m gonna go eavesdrop,” Cole decides, and goes to the other end of the bar.

“That kid’s a weird one,” Pat remarks. “It makes sense that he’d be Miles’s.”

“Miles gets good students,” Jon agrees.

Pat makes a face. “No, we’re not doing relationship talk, okay, this is design department night. We’re going to talk about design, goddammit. Not dating, and not sports.”

“I don’t think you could talk about sports if you tried,” Jon mutters, but he lifts his shot of whiskey. “To swapping terrible stories!”

Pat clinks his shot against Jon’s. “To having someone who will listen to my terrible stories!”

Jon downs his shot and turns to Pat. “All right, you invited me, so that means the next bad story is yours. Whatcha got?”

Pat cracks his knuckles. “Well. Let me tell you about Leanne.”

.

To: Miles (10:54 PM)  
How’s revision hell?

From: Miles (10:59 PM)  
Still hell!

To: Miles (11:01 PM)  
Go get a glass of water and keep going. and tell kerry to do it too

From: Miles (11:07 PM)  
done. thanks <3

.

There’s a sock on the doorknob when Jon gets back to the apartment.

“Goddammit,” he sighs, pressing his ear to the door. Chris has been moping since Tuesday, and if he found some kind of rebound then Jon will be as supportive as he can, but he’s not ready to be sexiled for the night. But he can’t hear any sex noises from the door, which means the couch is clear, and he can get to his bedroom without incident.

“All right,” Jon mutters, unlocking the door. “Time for a speed run.”

There are noises coming from Chris’s room, so Jon tries to block them out as he makes a mad dash to the kitchen. He makes it all the way to the fridge, rummaging for leftovers, before he realizes that the noises aren’t any kind of sex noises. They’re voices, having a regular conversation.

Jon pauses in the process of grabbing his cold pizza. It doesn’t sound like Aaron or Barb. The sock on the door means that something sex-related must’ve been happening earlier. But if they’re talking now, then it must be someone that Chris knows.

It’s probably Josh, he decides as he closes the fridge. That was always Jon’s second bet. Chris and Josh have known each other for a while, and Josh would probably be up for rebound makeouts if Chris asked.

“Oh,” Chris’s voice says suddenly, not in his room anymore. “You’re back.”

“Yep, done with drinks night.” Jon turns around, setting the pizza on the counter. “How was your…”

He can actually feel his voice wither and die in his throat. The person next to Chris is not Josh. Not even close.

Kerry at least has the grace to look embarrassed. “Uh, welcome home?” 

**Author's Note:**

> This series has both a [formal tag](http://officialseancassidy.tumblr.com/tagged/genspec) and an [informal tag](http://officialseancassidy.tumblr.com/tagged/genspec%20tag) on my Tumblr, and I talk about it on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/ofclseancassidy) sometimes. So, y'know, if you want inside info or to chat about the series, have at it.


End file.
